Come Sing Me a Song
by looks the same
Summary: You are mothers. Somehow, against all odds, you and Maura are mothering together.
1. Ooh Child -- Beth Orton

**A/N: Rated K for this chapter. M overall. Decided to keep the whole thing posted in this category. Will continue to explore this plot if there is an interest. Thanks for taking the time to read!**

* * *

_JANE POV_

Luke's scream is on a whole new level of shrill. You lurch awake, back arching high off your bed. In a matter of thirty seconds you have gone from deep sleep to sweat soaked movement. You swing your legs to the side of your bed, give yourself one long moment to breathe deep through your nose. You hold the air there for a second as the baby's scream silences instantly.

He has not fallen back asleep, he has not quieted or somehow rolled into his pacifier. No, it is that silence of so much energy that his body, his voice can not physically handle it. You know that face, that face that is red, angry, helpless, mouth wide in a silent scream until his breath kicks back in. The piercing cry is erupting from his tiny body as you step into the nursery.

"Hey, hey, hey," you whisper.

You try to keep your eyes normal, not wide and full of sad and sympathy pain. You scoop him up into your arms, brush your long dark locks away from your face and settle the infant onto your shoulder, palm immediately rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Lukey boy." You coo it at him in that voice that came so natural that it startled you the first few weeks. "It is all going to be okay. I'm here, I'm here."

You sway with him and he gasps a few times trying to find his breath before crying small little sobs into your neck.

You change him, continue to talk to him in that voice as you head into the kitchen. It takes you less than three minutes to warm his bottle. Maura says you no longer just stick the thing into the microwave, that it destroys all the healthy _blah blah_ found naturally in breast milk. But you've made your own changes in the routine. You pour the milk, bought from the hospital milk bank, into three separate bottles. Hot water goes into three mugs that warms them each individually. You watch them bob, urging them to heat faster, exchanging the water only twice before combining all three into his feeding bottle.

_Ten minutes my ass. _

Even Maura uses your method at three AM feedings. He gulps it down, lets out a few induced burps before he really calms and then you feel his head lose all control and his tiny weight crash into sleep against you.

Your own breathing evens out with his and you eye his crib from your position in the rocker, the outline of it barely visible in the darkened room. Two months ago this room was your tiny makeshift office, now it belongs to Luke, Lidia's baby. Although if you are honest with yourself you stopped seeing him as belonging to Lidia the moment she finally answered her cell phone and told you she was no longer in the state of Massachusetts. Ten days later and papers arrived at Maura's home in which she officially signed off on her parental status. A week after that and the blood results showed that the baby was your fathers. He too signed over his rights and by next week Luke will officially be your son, your child to raise. He has never felt like your brother. For the last two months you have not spent a night away from him. Although the majority of nights you are not alone, the majority of nights Maura is in bed next to you, the two of you taking turns in every responsibility that a child demands. Maura's nursery is bigger, full of everything he doesn't even need yet, but you prefer him here and for some reason so does Maura.

You swaddle his sleeping form, smiling when he doesn't so much as shift a limb and then carefully set him back down. His dark eyelashes are long, so long, almost girly, and you laugh as your stroke the air above his cheek. You are barely down the hall to your bedroom when you hear a key in your front door. Your mother has been a godsend, taking Luke with willing arms when you and Maura are at work, but at night, at this hour, it can only be one person. You hear her set her purse down on your kitchen table before you watch her tiptoe, head down, towards you. She hasn't realized that the hall light is on.

"Hi." You breathe it out as she snaps her head up, eyes startled.

"Oh, Jane. You scared me." Maura clasps one hand to her silk pajama chest. "Was I loud?"

"No, no." You hold your bedroom door open for her. "Just missed the late night feeding."

"Oh." She eyes the nursery before smiling sheepishly at you and stepping towards his door. She slips inside and you give her her moment, make your own way to your own bed. She follows a few minutes after.

"Gosh he's cute," Maura sighs it and pulls her jacket off her shoulders, slips hers shoes off next to your bed before climbing in.

You nod your head in agreement. "Couldn't sleep?"

She turns onto her side, props her head on her arm and you find her eyes in the dark.

"Not well," she says.

You understand.

"Funny how a house with a waking infant is somehow more peaceful."

Exhaustion is rushing in. Maura sits up briefly to angle the baby monitor so that both of you can see it. His image is blurry but the soft sounds of his room greet you both.

"I'll get up in the morning. You sleep Jane." Maura settles back down and you barely catch her words, sleep almost overwhelming you.

"Not if BPD has anything to say about it." You mumble out your response and she giggles softly, scoots into your body. The two of you no longer struggle over this type of physical contact, especially not this late at night. You are mothers. Somehow, against all odds, you and Maura are mothering together. Yes, it may be your name on his birth certificate but Maura holds your child like he is hers. And he is.

You mumble out one last thing as your body relaxes against hers. You tell her you love her. Because you do. Soon, the two of you will have to define what this is, this home that you've now both created. But now, now you sleep. Tomorrow you will work and manage and attempt to stay functioning. Tomorrow you will keep on loving Maura and tomorrow you will both keep on loving that little boy.


	2. Looking Out -- Brandi Carlile

**A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews. Some very sweet words were written. I know life is busy so I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read even if there isn't time to leave behind a thought. This is the first chapter story I've written where the chapters are short, to the point, and written extremely quick. I'm spending on average maybe 40 minutes cranking out each chapter, another 20 of edit before slapping it up. It's an exercise in me demanding my writing brain to work regardless if it feels inspired or not. So thanks for sticking through. And I do believe this chapter leads quite nicely into an M rating for next update. **

**Oh and to the one comment about POV, thank you! I am on a mission to claw apart the misconception that all 2nd person viewpoint is crap. It's difficult to pull off, I agree. But I am determined to publish writing in that style as I believe it demands a level of intimacy between author and reader that is hard to construct in either first or third. So thanks for the cheers!**

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_JANE POV_

You give yourself a moment. A long substantial and non-rushed intake of air. Your body rests against the door frame, your weight shifted dramatically, body sturdy yet relaxed. Maura is sitting in the morgue, profile to you, but her concentration is trained on the image of whatever it is that is under her microscope, blown up and on display. She drags a finger lazily across the computer monitor and you can only imagine the firing of rapid information that is her brain at this moment. Her face rests in one palm, her eyes appearing alert as she takes in the bacteria cell. And then you see her blink, long and hard. And again and again. Each time she lingers a second longer with her lids shut. She is exhausted.

"You ready to go home?" You call it out to her.

Your tone gives away that you have been standing there for quite some time. Observing. Viewing her. With ease and without apology or rush of explanation.

Your life is different now. Chaotic and stressful still, but also just intense and new. With most things in life the newness rubs off. One starts a new job. One lives in a new city. One meets a new person. That constant hum of newness eventually gives way to familiar. The natural stress and nerves, fade. Motherhood, however, is exactly the opposite. Everyday it is new. Everyday you are doing something you have never done before.

And it is so big, so important and. Overwhelming.

In a good way overwhelming. In a, you are raising a little boy to be an interactive and successful contributor to society, overwhelming. And because this is your life now, you have naturally grown in certain ways. One of them being that you do not avoid the things that you enjoy, the things that make you feel better, calmer, more at ease. And watching Maura, in all things, is one of those.

She pivots in her chair when she hears your voice. She brings her hands together behind her head, arches her back. It's a move that you make, often relax into, and Maura sinks into it nicely.

"Yes," she says. "Home."

The two of you gaze at each other from your positions, gentle smiles on your mouths. She should stand, collect her bags. You should help. But she doesn't move and neither do you. Instead you both take the moment to just be.

She speaks first.

"Jane, can I ask you a question?"

You nod, get hung up on how non-calculated Maura sounds these days. She is still the nerdy scientific brain who endearingly breaches social etiquette with her big words, tidy appearance, and polite voice. She is still Maura but motherhood has changed her too. She is less presented, meaning she presents herself less to the world. She spends her energy invested in her circle of you and Luke. The rest has fallen away and she is less concerned with always knowing more, learning more. She has mastered the here and now and it looks lovely on her.

"You can ask me anything. You know that."

She laughs, lightly. She is still in her relaxed position, almost slouching against her chair.

"Is this where you say I can ask you anything but you might not answer?" She teases gently.

"No," You respond, a smirk on your mouth. "To anyone else, yes. To you, no. I have no secrets Maura, not from you."

You are being serious and she slips on your mood. Intentionally.

"Okay," she says. Maura pauses but not nearly as long as she once might have. "Do you ever try to remember what it was like before? Before Luke?"

You stay silent, nod your head to communicate that you are listening but let her finish because Maura wants to answer first, you know she does. It's why she's asking.

"I just," Maura sits up, roates her chair a bit more so that her elbow finds placement on the table. "I can't. I can't remember. I mean, of course I can remember but I no longer can relate. I no longer really remember what life felt like before. Luke not existing? Us not raising him? It feels like there never really was a time where it was so."

She pauses now, finished, and you push off the door and walk towards her, sit in the chair next to hers.

"Maura, you know better than to say you memory is poor. Why, I do believe there is some brain blah blah nerve that is perfectly intact so that you-"

She cuts you off. "Jane, I'm being serious right now."

You laugh, hold her hand. "I know. And I agree. With everything you said." You pull at her fingers with yours so that they are not clasped, but intertwined. "I wouldn't go back."

She looks at you with her wide and somehow still innocent eyes. "I wouldn't either Jane."

You hold her gaze, squeeze her hand. And then you lean forward and it's so simple. You are not nervous. You have no doubts. She meets you half-way.

And Maura. Maura tastes like your mint toothpaste. Her tongue is warm and you suck softly, drawing a soft hum from her throat. You pull her closer, your hand wrapping lightly around her neck and pulling her and her chair towards you. Her knees bump into yours and she laughs into your mouth. Mumbles a, _romantic_. You can't help but laugh back. Into her throat. Your joy ricochets through her mouth, tastes like fresh air.

When you pull away to look at her, her eyes are so bright, so clear. Her cheeks are flushed and you can't help but smile. Big.

"More?" You ask.

She tips her head back and laughs again. Loud this time. Her smile is still all over her lips even as she straightens up, tugs at her smirking mouth with her teeth, tries to be more serious.

Because the two of you are kissing. Finally! So this should be big. Serious and all- souls colliding and epiphanies occurring, bright lights and fireworks. But your soul collided with Maura _oh_ ages ago and the epiphany that is the both of you soaked into daily life so easily and substantially that there were no fireworks.

Because loving Maura isn't a show or a realization or some big moment. Loving Maura is your life. You've done it for years and you plan on doing it for years more. There isn't anything to burn out because it isn't an infatuation or a spark or a- _one day I woke up and realized my best friend was beautiful and so I wanted her_ ah ha! moment. Maura _is_ beautiful, you have known this always. And you _do_ want her, desperately. But in this desperate forever, warm bath and rocking chairs, kind of way. You probably couldn't explain it to anyone else but Maura would get it. Growing old metaphors and all.

She stands now. Hikes up her dress a bit and straddles your lap. She shakes her head and blushes a bit when your eyes go big. She hovers just slightly above you, her body completely pressed up against yours.

"Yes please," she finally answers.

Your hands roam. Nomadic. Her thighs, her ass, her back, her sides. Edges of her breasts, throat, ribcage. Until finally they come up under her blouse and find purchase against her chest. You will have time later to worship those creamy breasts of hers and you want lots of room and light when you finally do so. But right now your hands lay flat, fingers stretched so that you can feel as much of her skin as possible. Her heart hammers underneath them and you feel love pour into your palms. She collapses her arms around your neck, slides her hands along your shoulders and pulls you close, tight.

And then Maura Isles leans in, all the way.


	3. The Nicest Thing -- Kate Nash

**A/N: Thanks for the continued interest! This chapter holds the M rating. Next chapter will jump some significant time in order to explore the Jane/Maura relationship in juncture to the fact that they are raising a son together. **

* * *

_JANE POV_

You say her name, sternly. Growl it out against her throat. Her bare throat.

She repeats your own name back to you, her own voice dropping several octaves. Pulls your face back, hands clasped on your cheek bones. Finds your eyes, gives you her serious face.

Maura is mocking you. Mocking you and your tepid attempt at seriousness.

You purse your lips at her.

She bites at her own.

Eyes fucking locked.

And then she does it. Again. Drags you down with her, over and over.

This has gotten fucking out of hand. You decide to put a stop to it.

"Maura, stop laughing!"

She gasps at your command, mouth open, now silent, the notes of her joy still practically vibrating along your collarbone. She licks a horizontal path to your clavicle, drags her teeth against the skin right there. She starts to pull back but you catch a fleeting shot of her face. Her eyes go light, soft. Her mouth starts to tug upwards, her throat contracts.

You scoop her up and reverse your positions, "I'm serious!"

You land Maura on her back, collapsing on top of her. This of course does nothing to help your cause. She is laughing all over you. You reprimand her again, try to keep the ecstatic happy out of your tone.

"Okay! Okay! Serious!" Maura looks up at you, her hair all spread out underneath her. Your own curls spill past your shoulders and drag along her cheeks.

"I will be serious," Maura says, punctuates the sentiment by flattening her body, pushing her shoulders back into the bed. "So serious."

She nods. Once, twice. Serious, serious.

And then you own ribs expand and you know she can feel it.

You bite your sound back. _You will not, you will not._ Sharp breaths out of your nose, lips pinched more firmly together. Maura just arches one of her perfectly threaded eyebrows. At you.

_You will not, you will not._

You do.

* * *

Touching Maura for the first time probably shouldn't be full of this much laughter. You should be nervous. Serious. Soul connecting intense.

Instead you find yourself tugging at her mouth, getting lost inside her when her warm tongue traces your teeth. You scoot further into her, all of your clothes still on, minus shoes. You are facing each other, on your sides, and she is laughing into your mouth. Her breath is warm against your skin. Clean.

One of your most favorite ways to wash away the day is walking at night, fresh out of the shower. The Boston air hitting your freshly scrubbed skin is like a salve. It spreads over you, sinks into your pores, revives. Maura's breath, a tumble of silliness and happy as it washes over you is even better.

She hikes her leg up further onto your own hip so that your hand has complete access to her thigh and ass, traveling up and down the slopes of skin that are just there. There and being offered.

Her own arm snakes up under your shirt; she runs her fingers along your neck. Spine to lower back.

"God you feel so good Jane," Maura says. Gasps it out against you, mouth open against the parts of your skin she can reach.

You move your own mouth down to suck on her throat a bit. Nod into her skin. She smells fucking wonderful.

"So glad this is happening."

It comes out of your mouth before you can think about it. You sound like a virgin teenager on prom night. But before you can get embarrassed Maura pushes back on your torso, grabs your shoulders so that as you sit up she is brought up with you. She grabs your shirt and throws it off your body. Takes her own off along with her bra and grabs your hands.

"More, more. Touch more of me." Maura demands it, desperately. Breathy and needy. She laces her fingers with yours and places your palms on her breasts. You gasp into her neck when the heat of her leaps onto your own skin. Maura pulls you in, slips her tongue inside your mouth.

"All of me Jane. Touch all of me."

You tip your own head back, having to pull away from her wonderful mouth. Her breasts are heavy and full, their weight the most perfect thing, your hands holding them the most natural. A little emotion leaks from your eyes and trails down your cheeks. She is pushing herself more firmly into your hands. Your scars flex and you have never felt so powerful, so important, so loved.

"God Maura." It's all you can say. You want to thank her for letting you touch her. Want to give offerings, praise, worship. Beg for forgiveness, confess your sins. She is giving herself to you and it feels disrespectful to not mumble back at least a prayer, a song, a reverent word or two. But you have none. At least not any that are big enough. So you repeat yourself.

_Maura, Maura, Maura._

And then you face the light that is her, press your palms more firmly onto her. Touch her like a hymn.

* * *

Your left hand flexes around her neck, again. Your thighs contracts and your abdomen jolts.

"How are you so good at this?" You gasp it out as Maura pulls on your folds with her lips, stretching you in the way that she has been doing for a good twenty minutes. She laughs into your core, pulls her face away from you, runs her fingers through your wetness.

"You want me to tell you or you want me to keep my mouth where it is?"

"Cute Maur-" You say it, gasp it, and pull her back down and onto you.

Maura just hums against you, sucks your clit into that mouth of hers and starts a different rhythm.

The good doctor is fucking cheeky in bed.

Of course she is.

* * *

Maura is tight around your fingers. So, so tight. Two fingers is perfect. Your two fingers are perfect inside of her.

"Ohhh..." Maura breathes it out, her voice trembling as you drag your fingers through her, pushing in, deep and pulling out. You rub her walls with just a hint of pressure before separating your fingers, giving her a little more width and then withdrawing again.

Her hips buck up at you every time you pull out of her. Her body is getting desperate. She pushes up on her elbows, pressing your upper bodies more tightly together. Runs her tongue along your shoulder, bites on your collarbone when you rub the back of your knuckles against her, tapping her clit. Slip back inside, feel her tighten again and again.

"Jane," Maura gasps your name.

You readjust so that your own wet core can find some pressure on her thigh. Every time she says your name you leak all over her. She hums her approval when she feels you wet and hot, sliding against her.

"Yes Jane, yes."

You curl your fingers deep inside her, barely pass over that tract of tissue that you know will send her reeling. Give her just a hint of what you are able to do to her.

She arches violently up off her back, spreads her legs even more, rocks into you. You kiss her with purpose and she sloppily responds, one hand squeezing her own hip, the other dragging down your back.

Maura starts begging you.

Her head tosses from side to side, sending curls in violent directs. She pumps her body against you and you love just how needy she is for it. Her abs contract as she grinds herself against you, her breasts bounce and _fuck_. She is light. She is everything.

"Feel good baby?" You tease, twist your fingers inside of her and pull back with the tips of your fingers dragging along her upper wall.

"Fu-ck."

You repeat the motion. "Was that a yes?" You smirk into her chest, tug a pink nipple into your mouth, bite against her.

Unintelligent words slip from her open mouth. Shaky vowels and drawn out sounds.

"Show me how much you want it baby." You drag your own folds along her tightened thigh, help release some of your own need. Maura nods her head, trying to listen, wanting to follow directions.

"Christ- so good." Maura curses it into your hair as she repositions her body so that she can pull her leg up, spread herself even more.

She positions herself so that she is completely at your mercy, your control. So so open.

You speed up. Let her know she's on the right path.

"Yesss," Maura hisses it out, thanks you and matches your pace. Her hips build speed quickly and suddenly your fingers are having to work twice as hard to push into her. It feels fucking amazing.

Maura works her body against yours and you finally finally add your thumb into the mix. The added pressure on her clit sends her lurching, grabbing onto your shoulders, hips never stilling. You arm burns with effort as you slam your two digits into her over and over.

"Fuck Maura, fuck."

She just moans in agreement, a tumble of sounds that rip from her panting throat. Her hot, wet body slides against yours. And then suddenly her own fingers are on you. She rubs your clit with an intensity that instantly gets you there. You pull up from her body, drag her into you so she is more elevated. It allows her to work herself against you even more and you pump into her with as much force as you can.

"So close, so close, so so so..." Maura.

"Don't stop, don't you dare stop." You.

Her teeth find your shoulder and the sharp pain of her bite sends you flying. You come violently against her, forcing your fingers to continue, rubbing her g-spot as you feel her clamp down so hard that your fingers just barely drum and pulse against her.

"Yessss-" Maura moans out her pleasure as she comes, hard, so so hard. Your body shakes into hers, your own climax still scorching through you. She swipes her fingers against your clit unexpectedly and your body lurches up again. _Fuck_.

You chant her name, over and over. The last few letters dropping off. Feel her continue to explode under you, drip down your arm. Somehow her lips are right there and your mouth sucks on her tongue as you both pulse with energy.

_This. This. This. _

Maura chants it out, sends her words down your throat, her body continuing to convulse.

She slumps in your arms, boneless and worn. You let her fall back onto the sheets, she manages to tug you down too. You're probably too heavy on her but it feels good, to hold her down. She moans, the sound long and light as it weaves out of her throat.

"Don't move Jane." Her voice is raspy, depleted.

Battle. You've just done battle. Glorious glorious battle. It looks fucking good on her.

You shake your head, communicate that you aren't moving. Sink more firmly onto her. Your heart is beating wildly against hers, the combined beat so very loud.

_This. This. This._

You've been resolved. You've been forgiven. Anything and everything that you do, will do, have done is made good by this moment. By the feel of you on top of her, by the feel of her underneath you. She slings one arm haphazardly across your back, her body still sending little aftershocks through her system.

_This. This. This._

Your energy is gone. Hers is too. She sends a slight pressure through her fingertips into your spine. Grips lightly at your back. You exhale into her.

_This. This. This._


	4. Reckoning Song -- Asaf Avidan

**A/N: Might head in a different direction than you were imagining. But I tell stories. That is what I do. Therefore, I tell stories that are submerged in a basis of truth. Life is not a complete rainbow at all times. Just saying. Hope you enjoy :)**

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_JANE POV_

On the day Luke officially becomes yours, Maura bakes a cake. She also wakes you up at midnight to eat it.

You wait for the annoyance of being dragged out of bed only an hour after you got into it to kick in. It doesn't. You wait for the ridiculousness of celebrating something at the exact moment it happens to make you feel ten years old. It does. But ten is good. It feels like Christmas morning.

Maura slices the tiny white cake, shifting the wedge of celebration onto a single plate. You watch with slight confusion, sleep still tangled in your hair as Maura arranges the treat. She grabs two mugs and pours the decaf roast. Two splashes of hazelnut creamer for you, a drop of skim milk for herself. Two forks.

She hands you the mugs and then gestures for you to follow her. Maura- bare feet, tiny shorts and long sleeves- leads the way into Luke's nursery. You watch her sit down, on the carpet, back to the wall. You join her, sitting cross-legged as she sets the plate between the two of you.

She raises her mug, clinks it with yours.

"To Luke," Maura whispers.

You drink. Hold the warm coffee inside your mouth a second longer than typical before swallowing it down. _To Luke._

His breath fills the air and from your spot you can see through the slates of his crib, watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

You scoot closer to Maura, hold the plate so she doesn't have to lean down to take each bite. The sweetness from the frosting zips at your tongue, explodes on your tastebuds. She rests her head on your shoulder.

"Thank you," you whisper.

Maura turns her face so she is looking at you, your noses almost touching. She opens her mouth to whisper back but you beat her to it

"I don't just mean the cake."

You smile at her, bet she feels the shift of the air between your faces rather than sees the actual facial feature.

"For you," you continue. "Thank you for being you. For being here. With us. For being my family."

You tell her you love her and she soaks it in. Lets your breath splash across her face. She doesn't say it back. Not every time does she need to. Most times you repeat it back and forth like a mantra. Just this morning you were out the door, determined to get into the office early. Maura came skidding across the tile floor, bare feet, towel wrapped around her, hair wet.

"_Jane!"_

_The door slammed shut right at the same moment._

_But you heard her, pulled the door back open, popped your head back in. _

"_Yo!" You took in her appearance, droplets of water splashing onto her bare shoulders. "You okay?"_

_She nodded. Grinned._

"_Love you!"_

_She practically shouted it at you. Might have even bounded on her feet a bit._

_You stepped in then, grabbed her hips and pulled her towards you. Kissed her. Told her you had to go. You headed back towards the front door, she the bathroom._

"_Maura!"_

_She spun towards your voice._

"_Love you back!"_

Tonight she closes her eyes, rests her cheek against yours. Lets you tell her over and over just how much you care. How much you are in love with her. She takes it in. Coats herself with it. That's how the two of you work. Some nights you give. She takes. Other nights the roles are reversed. Because there is something healing in the ability to allow someone to praise you. The two of you make a very intentional habit of it.

You love this woman.

When you kiss her she tastes like sugar.

* * *

"Ma! I know, I know, I know." You are trying not to yell, trying to keep the crazy out of your voice. But you're overwhelmed. Exhausted. Beat down.

"I wouldn't be asking if it weren't an emergency Ma." You slump down on your heels just outside of the precinct entrance. One hand on your forehead, the other clutching your cell phone.

"No. Maura can't make it either. Trust me I asked." You say it, hold the phone from your ear as your mother responds.

She agrees to keep Luke with her for a few more hours. It's the third time this week that you've pulled this stunt and your mother is just as exhausted as you. You thank her. Shut your phone. Snap your eyelids open and curse them for having this new little habit of resting during times that are not designated for sleep. You stand, walk back inside.

* * *

Time pasts. Frost makes an error. A big one. One he shouldn't make. One you should have caught much earlier than you did. And because of it you might never hang the man who you are certain slaughtered four young boys. _Fuckin nightmare_.

"I need that last body Jane."

Maura's voice surrounds you, penetrates the pile of crap documents that flood your desk. The answer to all of this is not in the paperwork that spills everywhere. But you have no leads, at least no decent leads and until you do the files are all you have.

"I know Maura. I'm looking for it." You practically growl it out at her not bothering to lift you head.

It's out there. The corpse of the fourth boy. You know it. You have no tangible proof and Cavanaugh is watching your team like a fucking hawk. Your inability to do something useful is gnawing at your skin. And while you can't bring his breathing body back to his grieving parents, you want to at least give them some closure.

_Closure_. Such a lie. Nothing you do is going to make this any easier for them. They took their boy to school. They took their boy to school like they do every day and he never came home. That was almost a year ago and they are wrecked. Will always be. You look into their eyes and you see them drowning. And it is not beautiful or tragically sad. It is devastating. You see them battling for air, attempting to move a limb to keep from submersion. Water floods their lungs and they struggle, struggle, struggle. Everything that makes up a person, whatever that is, whatever light it is that lives in people's eyes, is gone. It is completely and utterly gone.

Maura mumbles something underneath her breath.

"Excuse me?" You sit up.

She's standing there, hands on her hips, eyes on you.

"Look harder."

And then she practically snaps her heel off as she exits. This case is taking a toll on her too. Seeing your happy living boy every night does not help.

"I'm looking!"

You shout it at her parting back, throw your pencil at her exit. Long week. Long month. Maura and you have been coexisting in anger for what feels like forever. You're too exhausted to care for her and she's too exhausted to do anything besides cut open bodies, make dinner, and give the baby his evening bottle.

"Frost! Let's go!" You won't sit here anymore and feel her anger radiate up from three floors below you. You're finding that body. Now. You won't go home until you do.

* * *

Your ten minutes of silence last exactly the length of your drive home. As soon as you enter Maura's house his cry hits you. You wash your hands, take one more second to breathe and then follow the noise to the living room.

"I'll take him."

Maura looks up at you, sweat collecting along her forehead, hair pulled back into a hasty ponytail. She's got jogging shorts on but she's still in her work blouse.

"Go change," you say.

She hands the baby to you. "He's cutting his molars."

_No shit Maura._ The baby has been cutting his molars for the last few days now. Three months earlier than typical. It's why he's miserable.

"Really?" It slips out before you can sensor it. You take Luke in your arms and head towards the back door, hoping some fresh air might calm him down. Maura just huffs and leaves the room.

It's gotten to the point of little argument. You wish that were a good sign.

* * *

Another month pasts, maybe two. Your world is a spin of crime and your baby boy. It's an unsettling combination. It took some time but yesterday you finally nailed the piece of shit you've been hunting down for almost three months. It feels good but not good enough. Something new and something terrible will emerge within moments. You use to live for this shit. For the constant hum of the terror that stains Boston. You come in and you make it better. It's still true, your clearance rate has never been higher, but you can not change the fact that when Korsak enters and slaps a scrap of paper on your desk, you cringe.

You grab your phone and hit Maura's extension.

"Body." You say when she answers.

"Where?"

"1129 East Sycamore. Frost and I are out the door." You snap in your partner's direction. Motion for him to go warm the car.

Maura sighs.

"Fifteen," she says.

You nod, hang up. Fight the urge to cry. _Fucking pull yourself together Rizzoli._

Frost is holding the door for you. You stand, grab your gun from your desk, holster it and jog after him.

* * *

Luke takes his first step. You hear Maura come in through the front door but you aren't ready to look yet. It's only been thirty seconds since you last squinted them open to make sure Luke was okay. He was sitting a few feet from you, next to the table, rattle in his hand. You lean against the base of the couch, legs spread out in front of you.

"Jane." Maura barely whispers it out.

You snap your eyes open.

And holy crap your boy is standing! One hand still gripping the table, the other reaching out towards Maura. She stands there, bags still hanging from her shoulders, feet together, staring back at him.

"You can do it baby boy," she coos.

He bursts into a massive giggle that almost unhinges him and then just as Maura squats down to eye level, still a good distance from him, he does it. Lets go and freakin soars.

Or, takes one then two severely shaky steps.

"Oh my god, oh my god." You watch with wide eyes.

Maura just grins at him, tells him he is doing good. He takes another. And another. Maura effortlessly lets her bag slip from her shoulder, slides her hand inside her purse and pulls out her phone.

He braces the air with splayed hands as he dangerously sways but still he manages to stay on his feet. You want to high-five him, fist punch the air. He looks back at you and you can only nod, grin harder. He concentrates on Maura again and this time she catches his steps on video.

When he sits back down you can't help but burst into tears. Crawl towards him and pull him into your lap. He snuggles into your neck as you kiss every part of his face. Maura curls into your side, smiles into your hair.

* * *

Your girlfriend is forty-five minutes late. You've shown Luke the pumpkin patch, watched the big kids on the ferris wheel, fed the goats, and dodged the scary looking man dressed as a giant scarecrow.

Luke is sitting on a pile of hay trying to take a bite out of the largest pumpkin you've ever seen. You point at it, say _pumpkin_. For good measure you point at yourself and try to force a _Mama_ out of him. He just looks at you then bashfully tucks his face into his chest. Blows a few more spit bubbles.

Boy is thinking, hard. And you swear he knows. Knows that you are his Mama and knows that he can vocalize it. Kid is just playing with your mind. Making you wait. You laugh at your thoughts, squat down to make silly faces at him.

"I'm here. I'm here." Maura is suddenly next to you, somehow picking her way through the pumpkin patch in her four inch stilettos. You look her up and down.

"No." You shake your head at her, repeat yourself. "No."

"I didn't have time to go home," she explains. "Hi Bubba."

She scoops Luke up, props him on her hip. He tugs on her hair, laughs at her noisy kisses.

"Maura!" you whine. Maybe stomp your foot too. "I'm wearing it because you said we had to!"

Maura looks at your bright orange t-shirt, pumpkin image stitched into the fabric. "You look very festive Jane." She smiles, _actually_ smiles.

"I'm not taking the photo in this Maur- not if you're not wearing yours."

"You and Luke match, it's perfect Jane."

"It is not perfect! Luke looks adorable!"

You wave your hand over the overalls and orange striped shirt you put Luke in. Maura laid it out this morning and you followed suit.

"I however am a grown woman!" You say, maybe shout.

You did everything you were suppose to. Maura wanted a family photo at the pumpkin patch. So you wore the silly shirt, got Luke ready, played extra careful with him the last two days so that he didn't accidentally smash his face into something and ruin the photo. You drove the two of you downtown and you waited. In a pumpkin patch. The two of you are picture perfect! And Maura is standing here almost an hour late pretending that it is fine that she is in some fabulous expensive grown-up dress.

You hold your arms out and Maura rolls her eyes and hands Luke over.

"We're going home," you say.

You take off towards the exit.

"Jane!"

You should stay.

"Jane don't be a child!"

You should stay. Talk it out. It is completely against your personality to leave Maura behind like this. You should stay. You don't.

* * *

More time pasts. You have an evening free. No work. Maura has Luke with her. They are visiting her parents who are only an hour out of Boston, staying with a family friend. Your Ma is on a date with your Lieutenant. Frankie is working and Frost has some previous commitment. Maura won't be home for another few hours and you have absolutely no idea what to do with yourself.

The old you would be content to sit on the couch, crack open a beer, watch the game. But a few sips in and you're restless.

Your eyes helplessly roam the room, land on a framed photo of you and Maura that was taken almost two years ago. It's one of those photos where it is all face, your arm stretched out to capture the moment. She is wearing your sweatshirt, the Boston night air has her hair flying. Both your faces are clean, make-up free and happy. She is grinning so wide that it is impossible to look anywhere else. Even yourself, yourself in the photo, can not look anywhere but at her. You are mid-laugh, looking at her.

You miss her. You miss the two of you when life was carefree. Busy but still the time to be silly and wild was findable. The photo was taken long before the two of you entered into a relationship. But the way that you are looking at her in the picture, your love is so plain, so clear and sketched over everything. It's why Maura loves the photo, it's why you framed it.

You wouldn't go back. Not for anything. You love your boy. You love Maura. You love your family. Yet at the same time you are not yourself. You are exhausted and you have been stretched too thin. You can't remember the last time you touched, really touched, your girlfriend. You don't even like to use the word _girlfriend_ because Maura is more than that.

You should ask her to marry you. Beg her, hope she agrees. It strikes you as incredibly unsettling that you aren't really sure what her answer would be.

Your face finds your hands, fingers tug at your long curls. The two of you need to do something. Find more moments to talk, to express your love. To be yourselves. You knew this would be hard but you had no idea it would be this hard.

Keys are in your hand, your feet in boots before you even realize that you are moving. You need to get out of the house. There's a coffee house within walking distance, you decide to go there.

The gentle noise of people talking, drinking their coffee, having a relaxing time, floats up at you as you enter. You feel a little more settled. You order your drink and take it with you, both hands wrapped around it as you maneuver to an empty table.

You sip. You think of your life. You think of all the simple moments that you miss. You think of how you could reincorporate them back into your life. You check your phone, no missed calls. You think about texting Maura, but you don't want her to be looking at her phone if she is already on the road home.

This feels good. You lean further back into your chair. This feels really good. Giving yourself some space to think.

You feel someone standing too close, a little off to your left and you turn your face at the exact moment that she speaks.

"So I couldn't help but notice that we happened to order the exact same coffee."

A woman, around your height, lean but with short blonde hair is smiling at you. A few stray tattoos peak out from the edges of her fitted t-shirt.

You look at your coffee and then back at her. "Oh really?"

She nods.

You take a sip then grin. "I really love the vanilla soy that they add here."

She nods again. Laughs. "Mind if I sit?"

You look her up and down. She watches the movement. Her faded jeans are torn along her knees and for some reason the thought that strikes you is _endearing_. You find her face and the brightest pair of blue eyes are looking back at you. Carefree eyes.

You gesture to the empty chair. She takes it. Holds out her hand.

"I'm Lucy."

You set your coffee down, look into those eyes once again.

"Jane."


End file.
